Transylvania
by Nathan-Daystorm
Summary: Strange things are happening in a town called Transylvania....(warning: Modern story, takes place in 2004)
1. Default Chapter

Transylvania

Disclaimer:  I own all the characters.  It's an original story with a not-so-original concept.

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Sprocket was in full swing on this rather uneventful night.  There was an aura of tension throughout the town, even as Christopher Harper began some of his wild, flailing moves on the stage, kicking over a chair that had been set up as a prop.  It was a particularly angry part of the song, about how the young were oppressed by the old, and to him, his kicking of the chair symbolized the rage the youth felt at the oppression in question.

Or, maybe it was just fun.  One could never really tell with Chris.

Either way, the audience loved it.  They erupted into cheers, shouts, and people were added to the jostling throng of the mosh pit near the stage.  No stage diving for Quincey tonight, that was for sure.  The poor boy, he loved that like he loved his beloved natural touch with the bass.  He loved one of the two lead singers, Jessica Larrs, too…but that was irrelevant at the moment.  Well, it would have been…had he not been using his position behind her to catch glimpses of her rather impressive…assets.  Ahhh, the boy was in love…but that didn't mean he couldn't have a little bit of lust, too, right?

Jack Karter was trying to hide his disgust at Quincey's actions, and doing a pretty good job of it.  Jack was the opposite of Quincey in that regard.  The way he viewed it, lust was only something that one could have once one was together with the object of one's lust.  Not that he didn't have ample opportunity to partake in actions just like Quincey's.  He was the drummer, and this was a small stage widthwise, so he ended up at the back of the group.  He just didn't like thinking thoughts like that about a girl he so treasured.  He didn't hate Quincey for that; they just didn't get too deep into discussions on romantics or anything like that.

Rose knew that Chris was getting into the performance now, especially since he kicked the chair a little too far and it was now being used to smash heads by some idiot in the mosh pit.  She also knew that Quincey was probably staring at Jessica's backside, and the thought made her laugh slightly.  She knew that if Chris wasn't so into the performance, he'd probably be doing the same thing to her…hell, he'd probably been doing it earlier, before he'd allowed himself to get swept up into the music.  It's what she loved about her boyfriend…one minute, he could be your typical hormonal teenager, the next a very angry man throwing a very large temper tantrum while deftly sailing his fingers over the strings of his beautiful guitar.  What she really was curious about, though, was how he avoided getting cut on the thorny spikes situated on it.

Jessica knew the boys were staring, too, and not just the boys in the band.  She thrived on that kind of attention, on everyone staring, and she hammed it up for the audience in that regard.  Pouts, shakes, shimmies, and anything she could think of that would normally effect people were thrown into her performance.  Guys were going wild, as seen by the continually increasing intensity of the mosh pit.  A good deal of people were now trying to back away from the mosh pit, a bit afraid of the frenzied participants…and the idiot that was smashing a chair into people.  Mosh pits could be fun, but that sort of thing was just ridiculous.

Liam couldn't help but laugh at the guy with the chair.  He was entertaining, though in a morbid, "somebody could get hurt," way.  Thus far, no one seemed to be injured, so Liam was content to let the guy do his thing.  If he started seriously hurting people, Liam himself would push a preset button on the keyboard, and then go help security wrangle the guy.  Liam always liked to do stuff like that, for some reason.  Crowd control, he called it, and the rest of the band had to agree that it _was_ crowd control.  After all…you _know_ you're doing something wrong when one of the band members gets off the stage and opens up a can of whoopass on you.

All of the band members tried to keep their eyes diverted from Vladimir Drakul, the richest man in the town.  He had the money to buy the entire town, had he the desire to do so.  He was tall, with a strong jaw and a good physique.  He wasn't overtly muscular, but there was definitely a six-pack under that shirt.  Various tattoos dotted his body, and an eclectic mix of Victorian era and modern punk-gothic clothing adorned his body.  On anyone else, his clothes, with lace, spikes, skulls, and frills, would look like they'd gotten dressed in the dark…but somehow; Vladimir was able to pull the look off well.  His eyes were a crisp blue, but there were rumors that the color was due to contacts, and that his natural eyes were some odd color.  He would appear at any show they were at, no matter what the date…just so long as the sun was down.  Apparently, only Christopher was worried about the fact that Drakul was never seen during the day.  It was a topic of a good deal of argument amongst the band, actually.  Everyone else thought he was eccentric…Chris thought he was a psychotic mass-murderer.  No one understood his paranoia, and in truth, Chris didn't understand it either.

Instead, the members of the band focused their attention on one of two things.  First among them would be the thin, tan skinned man in the dark sunglasses.  He sat in a corner, feet up on the table, crossed at the ankles.  A long brimmed hat was tipped low, almost to the point of hiding the sunglasses from view.  Short black curls rested under that hat, the band knew.  The man was Professor Gabriel Van Helsing, the teacher of the metaphysics course at the local college.  He had a hard jaw, worn face, and a brow that was lined with wrinkles caused from worries and stress.  He was only in his mid-thirties, despite appearances, but was more anti-social than most teenagers.  A white unbuttoned t-shirt hung off of his body, exposing the muscle shirt underneath, while a long, dark tan coat billowed slightly due to gusts from an open window.  Black work pants tucked into sturdy work boots, and a leather cord hung from around his neck.  It was attached to a small piece of paper, with what appeared to be a protective symbol drawn on it in charcoal.  His resting place gave him a perfect view of Vladimir, and it was obvious that the presence of the wealthy man was the only reason Gabriel was there.

The other place to hold the attention of the band was a less intense one.  Three women stood in a tight group, two of them chattering back and forth.  The third, a young girl with dark brown hair, black lipstick, pale skin, a narrow waist, and long legs seemed to be rather…depressed, actually.  She wore all black, as was the want of two of these women, while the third (and apparently oldest) of them wore a deep crimson dress that looked VERY out of place, with it's low, lacy neckline, long length, and almost equally as long of a slip.  The oldest and, apparently, the youngest couldn't seem to stop talking, and they constantly looked Chris's way.  The quiet one seemed to be gazing, almost longingly, at Jack.  They'd been coming to any show Sprocket was playing at recently, and that was the normal pattern of behavior for them, with the oldest and youngest apparently falling deeper and deeper into the "fangirl" category when it came to Chris, with the middle one silent and more or less pining after Jack.

Such was the usual way a Sprocket show went.  Uneventful, with an air of tension caused by Vladimir, Van Helsing, and the three women.  What none of the members of Sprocket knew, though, was that things were about to get very weird…very quickly.


	2. Introduction to Darkness Pt 1

Transylvania

Episode 1:  Introduction to Darkness

Part 1 of 2

AN:  Alright, the system for this story goes like this:  When I first envisioned this story, it was in a very episodic, almost TV style format.  So that's how the story will be presented.  Each chapter will be like an episode of a TV show, with it's own mini-plot and focus.  However, the underlying plot is always there, and there is a specific goal for the series.  It will all come together in a finale, just like a TV series.

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"Welcome to my house!  Enter freely and of your own will!"

Count Vlad Dracula, Dracula

Christopher Harper was putting away his guitar when it happened.

Sprocket had played a good show, and this time, not a single soul had to go to the hospital after intense moshing.  It was something of a record, and something that Chris was hoping marked a distinct change in how people moshed at Sprocket shows.

Almost as if on cue, he tossed a glance over his shoulder, intending to catch a glimpse of Vladimir Drakul.  He did a double take and then spun as he saw that Drakul was arguing with Professor Gabriel Van Helsing.  The two were definitely not friends, that much were certain, and this just seemed to prove that they were enemies.  The argument was heated, and voices were rising each time one of them spoke.  Drakul's only friends, the three odd women, were fighting on his side…all except one.  The quiet one was, as usual, silent on the matter.  She seemed neutral towards the whole affair, though Chris thought he saw the slightest glint of satisfaction in her eyes.  By this point, the rest of the band had heard the argument and gathered around, Jack sidling up next to Chris in the process.  "What happened," the nervous boy whispered, flicking his eyes from Chris back to the intensifying argument.

"Dunno," Chris replied.  "I was putting Lucifer away and caught it out of the corner of my eye."

"Should someone try to break them up," Jack asked.

"Yeah," Chris replied, smirking slightly.  "Security should."

"What are they arguing about," Liam whispered, joining in the conversation.

"Like hell if I know," Chris responded.  "Jack, any ideas?"

"Maybe Vlad got tired of being watched," Jack offered.

"Maybe," Chris replied.  "Question is, though:  Why now?  Van Helsing's been casing him since before we were born, so I've heard, so why should he be bothered with it now?"

"It's getting kind of intense," Rose stated.  "Maybe someone should go say something."  There was no question what she meant by that:  Maybe _Chris_ should go say something.

"Yeah, yeah," Chris replied with a weary smile.  He started to walk towards the arguing pair, but was suddenly stopped in his tracks as Vlad lashed out and punched Van Helsing.  Gabriel stumbled back, but Vlad yanked his fist away like he'd been burned.  He turned on his heel then, leaving almost immediately.  He tossed one brief, unreadable glance at Rose as he pushed through the doors.

"What the hell was _that_ about," Quincey mused.  Gabriel, from the place where he'd stumbled back, laughed and exited the concert hall.  The three women were right behind him, though the eldest and youngest of the pair had to prod the middle one into moving.  Quincey smirked and nudged Jack with his elbow.  "Looks like you've got yourself a fangirl, Little Drummer Boy."

"Quincey, give it a rest," Jack sighed, trying to hide his blush behind an angry look.  It didn't work, and Quincey found himself laughing.  Chris had moved to the window to see whether anything was happening outside.  Drakul and the three women were heading one way, while Van Helsing was headed another.  "Something wrong, Chris?"

"…Nah," Chris replied, sighing slightly as he turned away from the window.  "Not like it's something we haven't talked about in the past."  He moved over to finish zipping up his guitar case.

"Chris, c'mon," Jessica sighed, shaking her head.  "Why are you so paranoid?"

"Look, guys, I'm telling you:  That guy is weird," Chris stated.

"Which one," Rose asked, smiling and wrapping her arms around Chris's left arm.

"Very funny," Chris replied, giving her an obviously fake smile.  "Seriously, though:  Why is Drakul so mysterious?  What's he got to hide?"

"I dunno, Lois Lane," Liam responded, smirking.

"Or should we call you Agent Mulder," added Quincey.  Chris flipped the pair of them off, which only made them laugh harder.

"Don't worry about it, honey," Rose said, her tone soothing.  She nibbled on Chris's earlobe and Chris smiled and kissed her, all thoughts of the mysterious Vladimir Drakul shoved to the back of his mind.

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The three women walked behind Drakul, not wanting to disturb him while he was in his current state of a slow seething.  Instead, the eldest of the three turned her attention to the silent woman on her left.  "You were awfully quiet, Delphi."

"We've been here before, Philandra," Delphi sighed, turning and walking backwards to keep from having to look at her "sisters" or at Drakul.

"You need to loosen up, Delphi," the youngest of the three piped up, poking Delphi in the arm playfully.

"Beatrice is right," Philandra stated, "you do.  I swear, all this brooding isn't good for you.  Beatrice is a poser goth, Delphi…not a real one."

"Hey," Beatrice returned, sounding hurt.  "I am _not_ a poser!"

"She meant that you're not a barbarian that invaded after the fall of Rome, Beatrice," Delphi sighed, sounding both bored and disgusted.

"Oh," Beatrice responded, not finding anything else suitable to say.

"You didn't realize that," Philandra asked, amused.

"She also doesn't realize not everyone knows their ancient history," Delphi continued, bored.

"She should at least tell me what century she meant," Beatrice half grumbled, half pouted.

"You're an idiot, Beatrice," Delphi groaned.  "She called you a poser, she meant you were a fucking poser."

"You're one to talk, Ms. Depression," Beatrice returned.

"Like I said:  You're an idiot, Beatrice."

"All of you," Drakul snapped, "be quiet.  I have to think of how to take care of that Van Helsing.  He is becoming a thorn that I cannot abide."  Philandra actually looked pleased, Beatrice looked exasperated, and Delphi looked disgusted.

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"You did it again," Chris sighed, as he drove Rose home in his car.

"What," Rose asked; though she thought she knew the answer.

"Brushed me off," he stated.  "I swear it's like none of you even care that I'm concerned about Drakul."

"Well, to be honest, Chris…we don't," Rose sighed, knowing what would happen now.

"Nice to know my friends and girlfriend care about my opinions," Chris mumbled.

"Chris, we do care…but you're just being paranoid about this."

"I'm _not_ being paranoid about this," Chris moaned.  "He only comes out at night!"

"So what?  He's a vampire?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Chris grumbled.  "Vampires don't exist."

"Then what are you saying?"

"I'm saying that psycho killers do exist."

"You think Vladimir Drakul, richest guy in Transylvania, is a psycho killer?"

"He's got the money to cover up whatever he wants."

"That doesn't automatically mean he has," Rose stated, her voice firm.  "Chris, you need to lighten up.  Vladimir Drakul is an eccentric guy, but he's not a killer."

"I'm going over to his castle," Chris blurted.

"What," Rose exclaimed.  "Wait, hold on, do you have any Q-Tips?  I need to clean my ears, because I couldn't have heard you right.  You think he's a psycho killer, yet you're going to voluntarily enter his turf?"

"According to you guys, I have nothing to worry about."

"Chris, you don't need to do this…."

"Sure I do.  If he is a killer, I can catch him.  If he isn't, I can prove it to myself, and you guys won't ever have to deal with my ranting about it anymore."

"Chris…look, I don't want to feed _your_ psychosis any, but if he is – _by some chance_ – a psycho killer, I don't want you to die."

"Now," Chris said, smiling, "you don't need to worry about that."  He leaned over and kissed her.  Suddenly, she pointed and screamed, and his head snapped up to see a woman standing in the middle of the road.  Chris knew he didn't have enough time to swerve, so instead he just hit the brakes.  He barely came to a halt before hitting the tall, pale skinned blonde woman.  She turned and stared at him with hollow eyes for a moment before leaping up, grabbing the overpass, swinging herself onto it, and then leaping into the trees.  All was silent in Chris's car for a few moments, until finally, Chris broke the silence.  "What _the fuck was that?!_"

Given Christopher's reaction, it was doubtful that either of the pair noticed Gabriel Van Helsing standing in a pool of shadow on the overpass, sliding a crossbow into his jacket.

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Instead of going home, Christopher stayed at Rose's house that night.  No one was home besides the two of them, and after cuddling and watching a movie to try and take their minds off of the rather superhuman feat they'd seen earlier, they both realized how drained they were from the show and headed to bed.

It would have been a good night of dreamless sleep for Chris had he been able to get any.  Instead, he was lying awake; Rose curled up in a ball, her head resting on his bare chest, sleeping peacefully.  He'd gotten a bad feeling earlier in the week, and it had just gotten progressively worse over the course of three days.  "Look at me," he whispered to himself, laughing wryly.  "Losing sleep because of some feeling."  He closed his eyes, intending to force himself to sleep.  "Maybe I really am paranoid."  Sleep claimed him after several hours.

It didn't take long after those hours, though, for Chris to awaken.  A cold breeze was blowing in the room, and when he was able to rouse himself enough to think clearly, he realized that he'd closed that window before going to bed.  With a sigh, he gently slid out from under Rose, got up, slid a pair of fuzzy pink bunny slippers on, and moved over to close the window.  "Don't close that window, boy," said a rich voice from behind him, and he spun to see Vladimir standing there, cradling Rose in his arms.  "After all, I'll need some way to get out of here."

"What the hell are you – put her down!"

"I think not," Drakul stated, sighing.  "Now get out of the way."

"I'm not playing," Chris growled.  "Put her down.  Now."

"You could not possibly fathom what it is you are trying to command, child."

"You don't put her down, I'll be commanding a freaky psycho killer rich guy with a boot up his ass."

"I would very much like you to try," Drakul stated.  "On any normal occasion, I would be willing to hear a proposal as to why I should put her down, perhaps even consider it…but tonight has not been a good night.  I will consider nothing.  Move."

"No," Chris fumed, fists clenching.  "I guess you're going to have to try and go through me."

"As before, on a normal occasion, I would not hesitate to take you up on your challenge.  However," Drakul stated, pausing a moment to snap his fingers, "at the moment, I have other things I need to take care of."

"Your servants might move when you snap, but I don't," Chris stated.

"It isn't my snapping that I expect you to heed."  Chris looked confused for a moment, and then he heard the distinct sound of screeching and flapping…like bats.  He spun and stared, wide eyed, out the window, as flocks of bats began to descend on the window as if from nowhere.  Drakul was laughing behind him, and Chris spun around, staggering towards him in shock.

"What the fuck…?"

"That is understandable," Drakul replied.  "You will not get an explanation tonight."  Drakul balanced Rose on one arm and used the other to backhand Chris in the chest, which sent him flying backwards and smacking into the wall on his left.  Drakul smirked and strode toward the window.  Chris made one last, desperate attempt to stop him by staggering forward and grabbing Drakul's neck, intending to haul him backwards.

Instead, he yanked his hand back as if it had grabbed an active oven burner.  "No pulse…!"  Drakul merely laughed harder and stepped out the window, merging with the flock of bats.  The flock then flew away, carrying Rose on their backs, almost like a raft.

Chris ran out after the flock, looking for them in the dark for a good, long while.  He had no idea where they'd disappeared to, and there was no way he could tell anyone about this.  He was screwed…he'd lost her…he'd failed her.  Chris loved Rose, and now some…some…he didn't know what had taken her from him.  He dropped to his knees and let out a wail much like that of a banshee before hugging the only familiar artifact he had, his guitar, to his body, the thorny structures on the base cutting into his skin.  He propped himself against a nearby tree to cry, to let it all out.

It was a few hours before his despair turned to rage.  Gradually he lost the desire to cry and gained the desire to hit something…and the tree was the only available target.  He turned himself over as best he could, slowly and shakily, and began to pound his right fist against the tree.  He hugged his guitar tighter to his body with his left arm, sending the thorny structures further into his skin.  His fist beat against the tree, splinters being the first of his problems.  His punches got more and more furious with each strike, and gradually his knuckles were bruised and bloody.  He didn't stop then, just kept going, and kept punching, imagining that he was utterly obliterating Drakul's face instead of a tree, or rather his own fist.

"Breaking your knuckles isn't going to do any good, kid," a gruff voice stated from behind him.  Chris turned sharply, the thorns on his guitar scratching up his torso, to see Van Helsing standing there in front of him, sunglasses stuffed into a pocket in his coat.  Deep, soulful brown eyes gazed down at Chris, and then he said "Get up."

"Leave me alone," Chris growled, wiping tears from his eyes with bloody knuckles.

"Would you want her to see you like this?"

"Rose is gone, what the hell do you know about it," Chris shrieked, and it almost looked like he was going to leap up and start punching Van Helsing.

"More than you," Gabriel stated.  "Now either get up and help, or you might as well just strangle yourself with one of those strings."  Without waiting for further word, Van Helsing strode off, coat billowing behind him.  Chris sat there for a moment, staring dumbly at his battered knuckles, before stumbling up and following Van Helsing.  "So much of 'Enter freely and of your own will'," Gabriel muttered under his breath as he walked.


	3. Introduction to Darkness: Part 2

Transylvania

Episode 1:  Introduction to Darkness

Part 2 of 2

AN:  Thanks for the reviews!  And the fanart!  And everybody, head to my site and check out a fabulously done poster by Clez!  Many thanks go to her for it.  Now (since I know you all want me to) I'll shut up and get on with the action, already.  ^_^  Oh, and one more thing:  Each time you see one of the nifty little dotted lines (except the one immediately following the AN, of course) it means a scene change.

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"This looked like some new scheme of villainy…."

Jonathon Harker's Journal, 31 May, Dracula

Chris followed Van Helsing for quite a bit, but eventually, the older man's pace became too quick for Chris to keep up with.  He could see the signs of the man's heavy gait, so he just kept on that path, and sure enough, he found Van Helsing.

Just not at the door of his modest home.  Instead, the mysterious, gruff Professor stood behind a bush, holding a crossbow close to his body.  "What are you doing," Chris whispered, and Van Helsing clamped a strong hand over his mouth.

"Quiet, boy."  Chris's eyes flared and he opened his mouth to bite Van Helsing's hand, but stopped abruptly when he noticed the tall, blonde woman standing at the door to Van Helsing's home.  Golden blonde curls hung to her shoulder blades, sliding over a sleeveless, black leather shirt, fishnet arm warmers taking up the position of sleeves.  Tight leather pants bled down into large combat boots riddled with buckles.  Her skin was pale, so pale that Chris thought she was perhaps a step or two away from being albino.  She had heavy black make-up around her eyes, with very light spikes coming down from under the eye, giving it a very melancholy effect, and her ears were riddled with tiny little studs in the shape of skulls.  Black nail polish covered short nails, and her hands were clenched into fists that were placed on her narrow hips.  "Do you recognize her?"

It took Chris a minute, but he finally did place the girl:  This was the same person that he had nearly run over on the highway!  "You wouldn't happen to have a spare crossbow, would you?"  He paused for barely a moment before spluttering out, "Wait, how did you know to whip…out that…crossbow…!"  His eyes narrowed and the boy hissed, "You were there!"

"Yes.  Get ready."

"You expect me to do something?!"

"Of course.  If you can't pull your own weight, one of these bolts will have your name on it."  He pulled out a vial of water and pressed it into Chris's hand.  "Back me up.  You're not ready to take one of them on."  Van Helsing slipped out from behind the bushes, creeping along the shadows.  The woman's head shot around, and before Van Helsing knew what was going on, he found himself being gripped by the neck and pressed up against the wall, his feet dangling about six inches off the ground.

"I can see in the dark, you know," the woman stated, sounding more exasperated than angry.  Just then there was a loud cry, obviously more bravado than anything, and Chris came flying out of the bushes, swinging his guitar in a horizontal arc reminiscent of a battle-axe.  The woman easily dodged, and Chris used the opportunity his feint had provided to toss the vial of water at her chest.  It broke open and the water hit her skin, and the pale flesh began to sizzle and redden instantly.  The woman hissed and dropped Van Helsing, uttering a curse before dropping back to the shadows.  "Damnit!  You didn't need to do that!"

Van Helsing looked to Chris to see if he was capable of answering, and saw that the boy was shocked at the reaction the water had caused.  He was muttering a word beginning with the letter V over and over again, and Van Helsing couldn't help but smirk.  "Of course he did.  You were strangling me."

"I was not," the girl returned angrily.  "You weren't choking.  I just wanted to keep you from shooting me with that."  She pointed to Van Helsing's crossbow, which was still gripped tightly in his right hand.

"A vampire shows up at my door and you expect me not to shoot her," Van Helsing returned, chuckling.  "I see your kind is not as intelligent as it used to be."

"You're assuming we're all alike."

"Aren't you," Chris chimed in, stepping up and showing her that he still had his guitar.  "Vampires, I mean.  Aren't you all the same?"

"No," Jane replied, "and kid, you should know that better than anybody."

"What's that supposed to mean," Chris blurted, to Van Helsing's chagrin.

"Drakul.  He took your girlfriend, right?"

"Who are you," Van Helsing cut in swiftly, silencing Chris in mid-sentence.

"Call me Jane."  Both of the pair waited expectantly.  "Fine, Jane Doe."

"You've gotta be kidding me," Chris groaned.

"For once, I agree with the kid," Van Helsing stated.  "Give me your real name or I'll dust you right now."

"That's the only name that matters anymore," Jane replied, sighing.  "Look, just let me explain myself, okay?  If you want me to go away after that, I will."

"Fine," Chris stated, shoving Van Helsing when he tried to say otherwise.  "But make it quick.  We don't have all night."

"Neither do I," Jane replied, smirking.

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"It all started when I was younger.  I was into the occult, dabbled in a little Wicca, never got deep enough to figure out that I was too much of a dumbass to be messing with that stuff.  I got to be pretty good at it, especially considering I was only dabbling in the whole thing.  Some people told me I had this natural talent, but I didn't believe 'em.  Maybe I should have, because that's what first led Vladimir Drakul to me.  I was…fifteen, I think; he was…hell, who knows?  He started wining and dining me, and eventually I was all set to do whatever he wanted.  He gave me this book; he said it was a spellbook of some kind.  I asked him where it came from and he just smiled this mysterious smile and told me that it didn't matter.  He said he needed me to decipher some stuff in it.  It took me a year, but I managed to get it all figured out.  It was some really heavy stuff, and I told him that.  He asked me if I could do any of it…I guess I was too blinded by my love for him to be suspicious.  I told him I could do it if he gave me the time to get the required materials together.  He asked me how long it would take, and I told him probably a couple months.  I got all the stuff together about a month early, thanks to a few lucky Ebay bids, and I went over to his castle to tell him.  He ended up thinking that I'd overhead something that he didn't want me to hear, and punished me."  Jane sighed and opened her mouth to continue, but Chris held up a hand to stop her.

"He punished you by making you like him," Chris finished for her.  "A vampire."

"Yeah," Jane replied.  "I left town for a while after that.  I didn't plan on coming back at all, but then I happened to notice a few familiar Ebay bids, and…well, I knew I had to come back and make him pay."

"You can't expect us to believe," Van Helsing began, but was cut off by Chris.

"Van Helsing, shut up," Chris growled.

"What," Van Helsing asked sharply.

"This is important," Chris stated, and then looked to Jane.  "You said you were a Wiccan?"

"Yeah.  Why?"

"…So is Rose."

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Rose awoke in a dark, dank chamber.  She was shackled to the ground, cold stone stinging her naked body.  She could smell repugnant incense in the air, and hear chanting in the distance.  Candles lit up around the room as if of their own volition, and the door opened.  She tried to cower back in fear, but couldn't, and regal red robes washed into the room just as the man's face turned to look at her…

…and she awoke again, this time in a comfy, lavish bed, with fluffy pillows under her head.  Scented candles burned throughout the spacious, cozy room, and Vladimir Drakul sat on the edge of the large bed, leaning against the post, smashing a piece of the canopy against it.  He wore a benign smile, and he leaned forward slightly.  "Are you alright?"

"What…what am I doing here?"

"You don't remember?  You were coming here to try and set up a meeting for your boyfriend, Chris, and you slipped and hit your head on one of the stones.  It's lucky I got home when I did, or you would've just been left outside, and you know how bad the wolves can get some nights."  There were traces of an old world accent in his voice, and Rose thought it sounded like something she'd heard in an old Dracula movie, once.

"Oh, well…where's Chris?"

"I called him and told him what happened.  He said he was bogged down with things and asked if you could stay the night.  I told him that I'd leave it up to you."

"Chris said that?"  Drakul laughed.

"You don't need to worry, Ms. Dawson.  I know what he thinks of me."

"Oh.  Well…he doesn't really think that.  He's just…paranoid, that's all."

"Not to worry," Drakul replied, smiling, "I won't hold it against you.  Now, you need to get some sleep."  He got up and turned out the lights.  "Sleep well, Ms. Dawson.  Pay no heed to any nightmares you have while in my care."  With that, he turned and strode from the room, leaving Rose to question just what in the blazes was going on.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

"She's not coming into my house," Van Helsing stated, standing in the doorway with his arms crossed.  "Since vampires have to be invited in-"

"Shut up," Jane sighed, and shoved him backwards.  She walked inside then, to Van Helsing's shock.

"Get over yourself, Van Helsing," Chris snapped, following Jane inside.  "My girlfriend's life could be at stake – no pun intended – here.  If I have to work with a vampire to get her back, so be it.  If you don't like it, just hit yourself over the head until unconsciousness sets in and don't report the missing weapons and books from your house in the morning."  Chris felt his shirt grabbed from the back of the collar and then he was hoisted into the air.

"You don't give the orders here," Van Helsing snarled.

"Yeah, I do," Chris snarled right back.  "And if you don't let me go, I'm going to El Kabong you with Lucifer."  After a few tense moments of staring each other down, Van Helsing let Chris drop.  "Better.  Now, let's see what you've got at your disposal."  Van Helsing glared at him, while Jane took a seat on a table.

Van Helsing grabbed a large book off the shelf and slammed it down on a table next to Chris.  "Our best weapon."

"…A copy of Dracula is our best weapon?"

"Yeah," Jane stated, coming to stand on the opposite side of the table from Van Helsing.  "Names were changed, but more or less, that's how it really happened.  Why do you think Bram Stoker couldn't write a hit before or after it?"

"And who would believe a guy if he told the story as nonfiction after this," Van Helsing added.

"Good point," Chris replied, nodding.  "Alright, so what can we use against him weaponry wise?"

"These," Van Helsing stated, gesturing around his walls to the various weapons lining them.  Various types of swords, battle-axes, crossbows, spears, staves, and even a pair of sai could be seen in this room alone.  "These."  He opened up a chest to show that it was full of vials of Holy Water.

"I have an idea," Chris stated suddenly.  "Jane, did you bring your car?"

"Yeah, why?"

"We need to go shopping.  Van Helsing-"

"Get the rest of the stuff ready, I know."  Chris smirked briefly before gesturing for Jane to lead the way.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

"Shouldn't we be heading towards the real guns," Jane asked, trying to keep up with Chris as he strode swiftly towards a display at the front of an aisle near the back of the store.

"Not really," Chris stated.  "Besides, real guns don't do anything to vampires."

"Whisper when you're talking about that shit," Jane hissed at him, speeding up so they could whisper discretely.  "And they slow us down," she continued, her voice hushed.

"I've got a better idea," Chris replied, holding up a paintball gun and grinning.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

"You see," Chris stated, grabbing a vial out of Van Helsing's chest, "you just pour this into the paintball capsule-"

"That's a damn good idea," Jane interrupted.  "Paintball guns full of Holy Water."

"That is a good idea," Van Helsing stated.  "Tell you what:  Jane and I will get the rest of the stuff packed into my van, and you finish filling up the capsules with the Holy Water."

"…Deal."  Chris grabbed a rapier off the wall.  "This one's mine, though."

"Good choice," Van Helsing replied, grinning.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

"Do you think we should bring the kid," Jane asked, shoving a battle-axe into the back of Van Helsing's van.

"He's the only reason I didn't dust you right away," Van Helsing replied, stashing a stake up his sleeve.

"So if we left him behind, would you dust me?"

"Probably."

"Oh."

"I'm gonna go check on the kid."

"Go ahead," Jane replied, uncaring.

Van Helsing sighed and turned, heading back inside.  He tried to push open the door to the room Chris had been in, but it was locked.  He pushed harder, and still it wouldn't budge.  He tried shoving it open, but that didn't work either.  "Allow me," Jane stated, an amused grin on her face.  She kicked the door in and the two entered the room, to find several things missing:  A few daggers, a bag full of stakes, all of the paintball capsules, the paintball gun, Chris's rapier…and Chris.  A cold breeze blew in from an open window.  "Shit," they both said in unison.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

A cold breeze blew in through an open window of the tattoo parlor, and Chris shivered in spite of himself.  "Quit movin' unless you want me to fuck this up," the bald headed tattoo artist stated.  He was covered so completely in tattoos, it was almost like he was a walking tattoo.  "Alright, I'm done.  That'll be fifty each."  Chris handed over the money, got up silently, and headed back out into the night, headed for Drakul's castle.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

"Do you see him," Van Helsing asked from the driver's seat of his van.

"That's the third time you've asked me that in a minute and a half," Jane sighed, "and my answer is still no."  She turned to face Van Helsing.  "Look, I know you feel responsible for dragging him into this, but we don't have time.  He's a big boy, he'll either live or die by his own stupidity."

"Yeah," Van Helsing replied, "and that's what I'm worried about."

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Chris threw the grappling hook as best he could, hoping to attach it to the wall of Drakul's castle and climb up.  He was successful in setting the hook and managed to climb up without too much damage.  He drew his rapier once his feet had been firmly placed on the cold stone of the castle wall, preparing to set the hook on the opposite side and climb back down the wall into the courtyard.  "I believe the front door would have been easier," Drakul's voice stated from below, and Chris spun to see the man he'd come to kill smirking at him.  "But, if you insist on being dramatic, I will humor you."  Drakul leapt up and stuck to the wall.  Chris gasped in shock, and Drakul laughed as he climbed the wall with ease.  "I see you've brought a sword."  Drakul held a cane out at arm's length, over the courtyard.  He pressed a button on the head and the bottom dropped away, falling to the courtyard below and revealing a sword.  "So have I."

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

"Damnit Helsing, we need to head for Drakul's castle," Jane exploded.  "We haven't found Chris by now, he's probably there already."

"So says the girl set on payback," Helsing returned.

"I'm set on stopping him," Jane replied.  "If that's payback, so be it."

"Right."

"You know what," Jane snapped.  "Fuck you."  She grabbed him and extended ebon talons from her fingertips.  "One way or another, this van is going to Drakul's castle.  Either with you as the driver, or with you as the dead body in the back."  A few tense moments passed before Van Helsing finally smirked.

"I knew there was a reason I liked you," he stated sarcastically, before taking the turn-off leading to Drakul's castle.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

"You took my girlfriend," Chris stated.  "I want her back."

"Were I not so rich, I would tell you that I wanted a million dollars, but you don't see that happening," Drakul stated.

"I'll spare you if you let her go."

"I doubt you'll even prove to be a challenge."

"You'd be surprised."

"Show me."  Chris lunged forward, but it was sloppy, predictable, and easily blocked.  Drakul returned with a thrust of his own that nearly found its mark, were it not for a quick sidestep by Chris.  He used the moment of imbalance on Drakul's part to try and land a downward slash, but Drakul caught the blade expertly in his free hand and shoved it backwards.  The vampire hopped backwards and thrust out, aiming for Chris's stomach.  Chris managed to deflect the blade, returning with a punch to Drakul's face that landed successfully.  The punch opened up an opportunity for Drakul to lunge towards Chris's chest, but Chris blocked the sloppy stab.  Drakul grinned and swung his blade out horizontally, knocking Chris's blade out of his hand and down into the courtyard.  A kick to Chris's stomach sent him down to his knees, and Drakul pressed the tip of his blade against the front of Chris's neck.  "Pathetic."

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

"There he is," Jane exclaimed, hopping onto the roof of the van as Helsing swung it around so the back faced Drakul's front door.  Van Helsing clambered out and gazed up at Chris as he fought Drakul.

"Not bad, kid," Helsing observed.

"Not bad at all," Jane agreed.  She winced as the blade was knocked from his hand and he dropped to his knees.

"Wait…what's he doing," Van Helsing questioned, squinting to get a better look.

"He's…smiling."

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

"Are you really that eager to die," Drakul asked, a bit amazed that Chris could smile when the Reaper was breathing down his neck.

"Who says I'm going to be the one dying?"  Drakul started to utter some sarcastic answer, but Chris leapt forward suddenly, lunging out with his hands.  They found their mark, each grabbing the corresponding side of Drakul's head.  Instead of the normal odd look Chris would've normally gotten, a sizzling sound immediately began to assail Chris's ears, and Drakul jerked free to reveal burning skin in the shapes of crosses where Chris's hands had been.  Chris grinned and held up his hands, palms out, fingers curved inward slightly…to reveal a cross tattooed on each hand.

"Nice trick, huh," Chris asked, stalking forward.  "Bet you didn't see that one coming."  Drakul growled and kicked out, his foot slamming into Chris's chest and sending him flying backwards, smashing into a parapet and breaking his left leg.  He fell to his knees again.  Drakul stalked forward now, intent on killing the annoying pest that had managed to get the jump on him.  He placed his sword against Chris's neck again.  Chris gazed up at him with hopeless, ragged eyes, the pain of the last night showing through at last.  He spread his arms and glared up at Drakul.  "Just do it," he groaned, his voice haggard.  "Do it and get it over with."  The two glared at each other for a moment before Drakul removed his sword and turned away.

"No."

"No?"

"Leaving you alive with the knowledge that I have her and you will never get her back is far, _far_ worse than death."  He swept his arm out and knocked Chris off the castle wall, not caring now what happened to him.  Laughing heartily, he retreated inside his castle, now without a care in the world.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Chris landed roughly on the ground, yelping in pain as his broken leg bashed against a rock.  Jane hopped off the roof of the van and rushed over to him, Van Helsing a step behind.  Chris wrestled free of both of them and hobbled into the driver's seat of the van, starting it and spinning it around.  He put his functioning foot all the way down on the gas pedal and squealed out into the main town.  He pulled the car over and began hobbling down streets, going from door to door, trying to get people to "take up arms against the vampire menace!"

It didn't take long for the men in white coats to wrestle him to the ground and sedate him.  There was nothing Van Helsing could do as he was carted away to the asylum.  The elder man just turned to look back at the castle he'd just come from, to glare at it more like it.  "You've won this battle, Drakul," Helsing said, "but you'll pay for it with the war."

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Meanwhile, in a field just outside of town, something was occurring….


	4. Loving A Monster: Part One

Transylvania

Episode 2

Loving a Monster

Part 1

AN:  Alright, I know this took a long time, dun kill me, please.  I had a huge block on this thing for a while.  So, since it's been so long, I'll skip the individual review responses for right now and get to the story!

"I love him, I love him, I love him!"

Lucy Westenra, Francis Ford Coppola's Bram Stoker's Dracula.

In a dark, shadowed field just outside of town, something was occurring.  Two figures, both heavily shadowed, one in a hooded sweatshirt, hood pulled up to shadow his face, the other with the drama mask of comedy covering his features and a black cloak swirling about his body, stood facing each other.  The eyes of each traveled up and down the body of the other, until finally they seemed to be satisfied.  The figure in the sweatshirt stepped forward first, pulling the hood back to reveal the face of Jack Karter, drummer for the band Sprocket.  The other figure stepped forward then, removing her mask, to reveal Delphi, one of the women staying within Drakul's castle.  The pair met in the middle of the field, Jack throwing his arms around Delphi's waist, and Delphi throwing her arms around Jack's neck.  Their lips met, and for the two of them, for a moment, it was as if the world had dropped away.  They were the only two that existed, and each only cared for the other.

Finally, after moments that seemed like many years, Delphi pulled away to gaze at Jack.  The pair stood in silence for a few more moments, swimming in the sea of each other's eyes, until Jack spoke, breaking the spell.  "You know I love to see you, Delphi, but I'm curious…why did you sound so frantic on the phone?"  Delphi sighed and pulled away from Jack entirely, slipping out of his embrace and stepping back a few steps, turning away from him and dropping her gaze to her feet.  "Delphi," she heard Jack ask, concerned.  He took a step toward her, but she stood still, didn't turn around.

"Jack…stop.  I needed to talk to you, and it needed to be now.  It's important."

"Alright," Jack replied, sounding both confused and afraid, "I'm listening."

"We can't see each other anymore."

"What?"  He looked around, as if looking to see if he was on one of those TV hidden camera shows.  "Why not?  Don't you want to see me?"

"Of course I do," Delphi squeaked, "but it's more complicated than that."

"How?  I-I understand if you don't _want_ to see me again…don't like it, but I understand…but you just said you wanted to."

"You always knew it would be complicated when we got together, Jack," Delphi stated, trying to sound harder than she really felt.

"You're not fooling me, Delphi," Jack said softly, stepping forward and wrapping his arms around Delphi's waist.  "You tried to do that when we first met, remember?  Play the tough girl that was prone to danger and flighty feelings, that no guy wanted to get involved with?"

"That's not it this time, Jack," Delphi replied, turning to face him, looking into his eyes and almost choking on her words.  "This time it's for real.  I don't want to stop seeing you, it's just…I don't have a choice."

"Delphi…."

"Jack…please, don't make this any harder than it already is."  She looked away from his eyes, at the grass, at a tree in the distance, at the town off a little ways, and finally stopping on Jack's chest.  "This is the hardest thing I've had to do…and believe me, I've got a lot of life experience to back that up."

"Just…tell me why.  Why don't you have a choice?  Is it a school thing, or is someone holding something over your head, or…?"

"Guys always guess the things that they think they can save girls from," Delphi stated, both amused and saddened.  "No, Jack.  It's none of those."

"Then what is it?"

"It's just…my father, if you could think of him as a father, is doing some things…and I can't be involved with you because of that."

"What about Drakul?  Can't he do anything to help you?  I mean you stay with him, not your father, after all."  Delphi let out a wry laugh before composing herself.

"No, Drakul can do nothing."  If Jack didn't know any better, he would have sworn that there was a tone of resentment in Delphi's voice when she said those words.

"He's rich, there has to be something he can do."

"Money doesn't make you rich, Jack," Delphi sighed, shaking her head.  "Jack…I have to go.  Just…please, don't try to see me again."  She slipped out of his embrace for the second time that night, wiped a few tears from her eyes, and placed her mask back on her face.  "I love you, Jack Karter," she said as he began to walk off.  "I just wish that was enough."

Jack was left staring after her, a stupefied, hollow look in his eyes.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Jack was walking down the street, his legs on autopilot and his mind in the sky.  He was trying to figure out what Delphi's father could be doing, and whether he could do anything to help.  Maybe if he paid a visit to Drakul, he could…he paused a moment as his eyes caught something rather odd, and his mind suddenly snapped back into focus.  Orderlies from an asylum were hauling Chris into a van!  Jack darted towards them, all thoughts of Delphi on hold.  "Hey!  What's going on here?  What are you doing with him?"

"Our job, kid," the larger orderly snapped.

"Is this guy your friend?"

"Yeah.  Now tell me what's going on," Jack stated, narrowing his eyes at the larger of the two.

"He was running around trying to get people to attack Drakul.  He claimed that he was a vampire."  Jack's eyes widened as he looked at the brooding Chris.  His leg was broken…how did that happen?

"Chris," Jack asked.  Chris opened his eyes and laughed as he saw Jack.

"Heya, Jack.  I guess you don't believe me either, huh?"  Before Jack could say anything, Chris continued.  "You think I'm crazy, just like all the rest.  Yeah, well, no offense, but I'm going to laugh when one night you get drained dry by him or one of his bitches."

"That's enough, kid," the second orderly stated, jabbing a syringe into Chris's arm.  "It's time for you to take a nap.  We'll get you to a bed as soon as possible."

"Whatever," Chris replied, though the sedative had a rapid effect.  Within five minutes, Chris was being loaded up into the van, Jack watching in shock.  He didn't notice Professor Van Helsing standing behind him until the van had pulled off.

"Professor…?"  He looked over and saw the Professor's van parked a few feet away, the front end of the van on the road, the back end on the sidewalk.  "What's going on?"

"Nothing.  Go home, Mr. Karter.  You don't want to be involved in this."  Van Helsing spun and headed off towards his van, leaving Jack stupefied for the second time in less than half an hour.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Delphi slipped into Drakul's castle, opening the doors just enough to get in and turning to make sure they closed quietly.  When she turned back around, both her sisters were standing there, and she glared at them.  "You knew I snuck out," she accused.

"We always know, Delphi," Philandra replied, rolling her eyes.

"Is it a guy," Beatrice asked, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

"No, it's not a guy," Delphi lied, shoving her way past her sisters and heading down the hallway.

"Share," Beatrice said, laughing while catching up and falling into step on Delphi's left side.

"Really," Philandra sighed, falling into step on Delphi's right, "you should know better than to keep that sort of thing from us."

"Why is that," Delphi asked, already knowing the answer.

"Because we're your sisters," Beatrice stated enthusiastically.

"Beatrice, you're a naïve slut that doesn't know a damn thing about what's really going on, and Philandra, you're a bitch."  Delphi turned suddenly and started going up the stairs.  "I think that about sums it up nicely."  She disappeared around another corner, and Philandra laughed at Beatrice, who actually looked hurt by Delphi's comment.

"Come on, little sister, I have an idea that you might like," Philandra stated, putting her arm around Beatrice and guiding her down the hallway.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Jack stood just outside Van Helsing's, seemingly uneasy and nervous.  He wasn't sure why, but he felt the need to come here.  Either it was because of Chris, or because…because he wanted to ask about Delphi.  He'd always known the situation was more complicated than she made it out to be, always known that something wasn't right…and the only person he could think to ask about that was Professor Van Helsing.  He was about to knock when the door swung open.  "Come in, Mr. Karter."  Van Helsing lead Jack upstairs, to the apartment that he called home above his rather extensive "headquarters."  Jack was amazed at all the weapons, books, and occult paraphanelia the man had in the lower portion of his living quarters, but that still didn't prepare him for the conversation that would ensue once they were upstairs.

Van Helsing gestured to a couch that Jack could sit on, and when the boy did, Van Helsing took the chair across from him.  "What can I do for you, Mr. Karter?  I'm assuming this involves Chris?"

"No," Jack replied, shaking his head.  "I was going to get to that afterwards, but…I'm here to ask about my girlfriend."

"I'm not a private detective, Mr. Karter.  I'm not going to find out if she's cheating on you," Van Helsing chided.

"I didn't think you were," Jack responded.  "Something…I love her, but I've always known there's more to her than meets the eye…."

"And you were wondering whether I knew anything about her," Van Helsing finished for the boy.  "Fair enough.  Do you know what she is?"

"Um…human?  Is there anything else?"

"What's her name," Van Helsing sighed in exasperation.

"Delphi," Jack responded.  "She's staying at Drakul's mansion."  Van Helsing's eyes widened.

"Then she's not human," Van Helsing replied.  "And you're more entwined in Chris's situation than you think."

"What?"  Jack looked uneasy again, as if he were about to bolt down the stairs and out the door.

"Mr. Karter, I'm going to be honest with you:  Drakul is a vampire.  So are the three women that stay with him.  He made them."

"…Delphi's a vampire?"

"Yes, Mr. Karter," Van Helsing replied.  "I can prove it, if you'd like."

"I think you'd better," Jack retorted, torn between anger and fear.  Van Helsing nodded, pushed himself up, and retrieved a picture from a draw.  It was black and white, dated around 1939, and was in fairly good condition.  He pressed the picture into Jack's hand.

"Tell me who you see in that picture," Van Helsing instructed.

"…That's Drakul, but he doesn't look any different than…!  That's…Delphi!"

"Is this proof enough, Mr. Karter?"

"I…pictures can be faked," Jack gasped out, throwing the picture back at Van Helsing.

"Drakul has kidnapped Rose," Van Helsing continued, catching the picture one-handed.  "Chris can attest to that, at least until they pump him full of sedatives and make him think whatever they want him to think."

"I…how…it isn't possible."

"I didn't think teenagers today were so disbelieving," purred a seductive voice from a suddenly open window.  Jack bolted upright, spinning to face the window.  Van Helsing had already reached into his coat, but found his arm in the vice grip of a young looking woman with dark hair and tan skin.  Jack was left to stare as the tall, pale skinned woman with brown hair slipped in.  He recognized her from the shows as the oldest of the three women that stayed with Drakul, and the woman holding Van Helsing as the youngest.

"How did you get up here," Jack asked, confused.

"Easily," Philandra replied.  "We just floated on up, like dust on the wind."

"Actually," Beatrice giggled, "we were."

"Details, details," Philandra replied, waving her hand dismissively.  "What does it matter?  We're here for a reason, Beatrice, do not forget."

"Oh, don't worry," Beatrice grinned, her teeth elongating into fangs, "I won't."  Jack gasped and stumbled backwards, ending up falling backwards over the couch in the process.  Philandra and Beatrice both laughed at Jack's display, and Philandra moved closer to the couch.

"So, this is the mortal that has captured our sister's heart," she questioned, a sinister smirk spreading across her face.  "Not much of one, I see."  Van Helsing glanced towards the couch, mentally cursing himself for letting Jack in.

"Oh, don't worry," Beatrice scolded playfully, obviously catching sight of the look on his face.  "You'll get your turn."

"No he won't," Jack's voice exploded from behind the couch, and suddenly the couch was sent forward, smacking into Philandra before toppling over and pinning her to the ground.  Beatrice hissed loudly, glaring at Jack, her attention wavering from Van Helsing for a moment.  Van Helsing used the moment of distraction to his advantage, yanking his arm out of her grip and removing the stake from his coat.  He tossed Jack an extra stake as he slowly backed away from Beatrice, stake held at the ready.  Jack held the stake at the ready, though his hand was shaking, and so was his whole body, for that matter.  He was afraid, anyone could tell that, and he was struggling with himself to control it.

Philandra shoved the couch off of her and across the room, standing up and brushing herself off as the frame of the couch splintered and broke.  "Apparently I spoke too soon," she began.  "Come on, Beatrice.  This fight won't take place here or now."  She waved playfully at Jack and added, "We'll be seeing you…soon."  Beatrice looked a bit disappointed that she wouldn't get to take care of Van Helsing, but did as she was told.  They both went to the window that Philandra had entered through, and somehow, the next minute they were motes of dust, floating out the window.

Jack, though still shaking, turned purposefully and headed towards the door.  "Where are you going," Van Helsing questioned, arching an eyebrow.

"I-I have to get Delphi out of there," Jack replied.  He may have stuttered, but there was a stubborn determination underneath the nervousness that Van Helsing knew would be impossible to reason with.

"I'm not helping you," Van Helsing replied.  "I need to try and help Chris."

"I know.  Do what you have to do," Jack responded.  He pushed through the door, and called back over his shoulder, "I'm taking some Holy Water."

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Quincey was sleeping rather peacefully, TV blaring in his living room, when he heard a pounding at his door.  It was so loud and insistent that he bit off the sarcastic comment he'd intended to utter and swung open the door.  Jack stood there looking frightened but determined.  He held a wooden stake in his hand, and had several pouches attached to his belt.  "Jack," Quincey muttered sleepily.  "What's goin' on?"

"I need your help," Jack replied.  "Can I come in?"  Quincey nodded and moved aside, and Jack entered swiftly.  "Close your door and lock it.  We also need to lock the windows."  Without waiting for Quincey to comply, Jack strode into the nearest room and began locking the windows in place.  Then he pulled a glass vial out of one of the pouches, popped it open, and began spreading the water within the vial all over the window frame and sill.

"What the hell are you doing," Quincey asked, his voice a combination of grogginess and shock.

"I need you to come with me to Drakul's castle."

"What?  At this time of night?"

"Yes.  Now.  The sooner the better."

"…Is that Holy Water?"

"Yes, it is.  Drakul's a vampire, so are the women with him.  I've been seeing one of them.  I love her, and she's not like the others.  I need to get her out.  Van Helsing's occupied trying to get Chris out of the nuthouse, so he can't, so I'm coming to you.  We'll need to call Liam, too."

"…Wait, whoa, slow down a minute," Quincey replied, shaking his head to try and wake himself up.  "I was sleeping out in the TV room when you started knocking, so just slow down so that my groggy mind can digest all this.  Start from the beginning."  Jack sighed heavily and nodded.

"Alright.  The beginning, for me, was tonight, when I was seeing Delphi.  She's always insisted that we go to out of the way places to be together, places where people wouldn't recognize either of us.  She's also always insisted on going to movies that were really early, almost too late for her to make it back before sunrise.  I didn't get it at first, but now I know why.  She's one of three women, made sisters when Drakul turned all three of them.  Well, tonight she broke it off because of something Drakul was doing.  Turns out, he's kidnapped Rose, for what purpose I don't know.  I'm guessing Chris, being the guy that he is, tried to get her out the direct way, and then when that didn't work, he tried to get the town to help.  Didn't work so well, as I saw him being taken to the loony bin."

"Geez," Quincey sighed, shaking his head again, this time to clear it.  He knew Jack wouldn't lie about this, but still…vampires?  Quincey could believe in a lot, but vampires?  "Look, Jack, are you sure everything is the way you think it is?  I mean…well, its not that I don't believe you, but…well, to be blunt, _vampires_?"

"Yes, vampires," Jack replied, and then continued, "You know me."  He gestured to the window.  "Would I be locking windows and pouring Holy Water all over them if I wasn't sure?"

"Have you…I mean, well, of course you have, but…I mean, have you seen any of them with fangs?"

"Fought two of them briefly earlier," Jack explained.  "C'mon Quincey, we're wasting time."  Jack smirked briefly and added, "We're burning moonlight."


	5. Loving A Monster: Part Two

Transylvania

Episode 2

Loving A Monster

Part 2

Jack and Quincey were crouched down behind a bush outside Drakul's castle, Jack peeking his head out to make sure the coast was clear, and Quincey glaring at the back of Jack's head. 'I swear' Quincey thought to himself, 'if this wasn't so goddamned ludicrous, I'd be humming the Mission: Impossible theme song right now.' "Jack, man, this is insane."

"Come on, the coast is clear," Jack stated, moving forwards and out from behind the bush. Quincey remained where he was, and after a few steps, Jack turned around and came back. Quincey figured Jack was calling it quits, which is why he was surprised when Jack grabbed him by his collar and glared straight into his eyes. "Quincey, the fact of the matter is that I'm going into that castle, and I'm going to come back out with Delphi. I can do that with or without your help, but with will be a whole lot easier, and it increases the chances of survival. Now, are you coming, or not?" Without waiting for a response, Jack turned and ran towards the entrance to the castle, trying to make as little noise as possible. After a moment, Quincey followed him, looking somewhat shocked.

"When did you become Jack Slater, last action hero?"

"Love makes a man crazy," Jack returned. "Help me with this door." Together, the two of them quietly opened the door just wide enough for them to fit one at a time. Quincey was the last one in, and let the door close behind him.

"Which way," Quincey whispered, a wave of uneasiness striking him like a sack full of bricks.

"Not sure," Jack replied, sticking close to the darkened wall on the left. "Just follow me. Bedrooms are usually on the higher floors, so if you see some steps, let me know." Quincey nodded before moving over to the right wall, twirling a vial of Holy Water in his fingers.

"So, do we have any semblance of a plan," Quincey asked, not out of real curiosity, but finding the silence claustrophobic and frightening.

"Yeah. It consists of three steps. Step one: Find Delphi. Step two: Get back to my place. Step three: Take out anything that tries to stop us."

"…That's it?"

"Pretty much," Jack responded, still searching the hallway for a set of stairs.

"Do we have any weapons?"

"We have the Holy Water."

"That's it?"

"Pretty much."

"…I should've stayed in bed." Quincey's regret was ringing in his voice like a church bell in a ghost town.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Drakul sat in conference with Philandra and Beatrice, the two of whom still attended these things, and who actually gave a damn about what was said. "Now, ladies…you attacked Van Helsing. This is not only a good thing, but laudable, as well." The two women appeared to be preening themselves. "That is, if these were normal circumstances." Both women stopped dead in their tracks, suddenly afraid of where this meeting was going. "However, these are not normal circumstances. You know of my plans for the girl, you know how close I am to final success…why would you attack my mortal enemy without at least consulting me?" Philandra opened her mouth to answer, but Drakul waved his hand and added, "Don't bother trying to explain yourselves. None of your reasons would be even halfway good enough." Philandra's jaw went slack, hanging open in either shock, fear, or a bit of both. Beatrice had the presence of mind to cower in her chair. Drakul got up, turned his back on the women, and began pacing between his spot at the table and the wall, moving his chair aside gently with his foot.

After a few minutes of this, Philandra cracked. "My lord, we were only trying to-"

Drakul spun and slammed both his hands down, palms open, on the table, shaking the table and causing a loud thud to echo throughout the otherwise silent room. His face was twisted in rage, his mouth a tight line, his jaw muscles tense. "I do not care what your reasons are! Just _shut up_!" Both women had jumped when the elder vampire had slammed his hands against the table, and now they were up out of their seats, clinging to each other in a corner, afraid for their unlives. "It's bad enough that you did this without my _permission_! I could overlook that! I could overlook your _absolutely horrible_ sense of timing in most normal situations!" He stormed over to them, kicking chairs out of his way in the process. He grabbed each of them roughly by the throat and hauled them up into the air, slamming them against the wall and pinning their struggling, wriggling forms there. "But now, with my plans finally coming to fruition, with my risks greater than ever, I _can not simply overlook this_!"

"We…we…understand, my lord," Beatrice pleaded, her voice barely above a whisper due to the vice-like hold Drakul had on her throat. "It won't…happen…please, my lord, you're…hurting me."

"That is the point, you ignorant little bitch," Drakul spat. "My plans could have been foiled quite easily had you been followed, had you been questioned by Van Helsing, any of the girl's little teenage friends, or worse…_apprehended by the **police**_!!!" He snarled at them in utter fury and spun, launching them both through the table. "All these things you risked! And how little you know of what further risk you took! _He_ lurks somewhere in the city!" He walked over, picked up a pointy piece of wood, and held it over Philandra's chest. "_Beatrice_ is a rookie compared to you, so she could almost be excused. _You_, Philandra…there _is no excuse_."

"Please…my lord…we can…take care of him...," Philandra's weak voice begged.

"Yes, just like you did the last time," Drakul snorted sarcastically. He glared at her for a few more moments before getting up, letting the makeshift stake fall harmlessly to his side. "Fine. If you can do as you have said, you will be saved in my graces." He paused, and then called over his shoulder, "Should you allow him to meet up with the teenagers or Van Helsing, both of your unlives are forfeit." Drakul stormed out the door, leaving the two female vampires to heal slowly.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Jack and Quincey had spotted stairs soon after they had entered, and had reached the top when they heard a door open and slam. Jack peered around the corner and saw Drakul storming out, his face revealing his anger. Jack was about to follow him when he heard a soft, harsh whisper. "Jack," came the familiar female voice.

"Delphi," he asked, peering into the darkness on the other side of the hall. Delphi emerged from the shadows in a nightgown covered in a bathrobe. She grabbed him by the wrist and began to pull him back the way she came. "Delphi…I brought my friend Quincey with me. He's over there."

"I know," Delphi responded, reaching out and grabbing Quincey by the wrist as well. "Come on. We can talk in my room." She dragged the pair of them down the long, dark hallway, until finally taking a left, climbing another set of stairs, and almost immediately going through a set of large double doors. They had to squint until their eyes adjusted to the bright artificial light in the room, but when they did, they both stood, mouths gaping.

Delphi's room was HUGE, easily the size of a large classroom at school. She had a large, plush bed, decorated with black bed sheets, a frilly blue comforter that Jack had given her for the winters, and a black heart shaped pillow at the headboard. She had a vanity over on the far wall, and a bathroom connected to the right wall. A large TV sat directly across from her bed, a DVD player on top. A stack of DVDs the size of a Cadillac sat next to it, and the entire left wall was taken up with huge bookshelves. Both the DVDs and the books showed an eclectic taste: Lying directly atop Scarface was Shrek, and on top of Schlinder's List lay Spider-Man. The books were no different, with the giant, all-in-one tome of Lord of the Rings resting comfortably in between both of Mick Foley's autobiographies.

The carpet was hot pink shag, and was quite comfy, from what the boys could tell as it rubbed against their ankles. A walk-in closet the size of a public restroom sat nestled in a corner of the right wall, though it looked well used. Incense was burning on a desk next to a computer, and a tarot deck sat in front of the incense holder. The walls were covered with posters, either of movies or of bands, Sprocket being one of them. Particularly Jack, considering he had an entire little shrine to himself next to her bed. "Hey," Quincey said, nudging jack and grinning, "check that out." Jack blushed and shoved Quincey, who then proceeded to look at the bed.

"You guys are here, you might as well get comfortable," Delphi sighed. Jack nodded and went to sit down on the edge of her bed, while Quincey walked towards the same object at a slower pace.

"No coffin," he asked suddenly, his brow furrowed. Delphi's face instantly snapped around, to look at Jack.

"You know…you know what I am?"

"I know," Jack responded, nodding. "When I was coming back from seeing you earlier, I saw Chris getting carted away to the nuthouse, and Professor Van Helsing was standing there. He wouldn't tell me what happened, so I went back to his place, and he started to explain. Then those other two that you're with attacked us, and we managed to fight them off-"

"Wait, whoa, whoa, hold on a minute," Delphi muttered, waving her hands to try and get Jack to stop. "If you know what I am, why are you here?"

"To get you out," Jack replied. "I mean, that is what you want, right?" Jack sounded hopeful, but wasn't sure if he even believed his own words.

"Jack, I…yes," she breathed. "I've wanted that for a long, long time…but I was too afraid to do it on my own." Jack smiled, standing up and sweeping her up into a tight hug.

"You're never alone anymore, Delphi. You've got me." Quincey put his hand on Jack's shoulder.

"You've both got me," he stated, "but maybe we should go. No offense meant, but this place is getting creepier by the minute."

"You get used to it," Delphi replied. "But you're right, we should get going." Jack nodded, heading to the door.

"Alright, everyone stay quiet, don't fight unless there's no other choice," Jack instructed, slipping out the door.

"When did he become Jack Slater," Delphi asked, glancing at Quincey.

"Y'know," Quincey replied, laughing softly, "I asked him the same thing." Quincey was out the door next, leaving Delphi to give her room of several hundred years one last look over before slipping out the door.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

As Quincey slipped out the door, he bumped into Jack, and Delphi in turn bumped into him. "Jack, what," Delphi began, but when she laid eyes on the two female vampires that were standing in front of them, fists on their hips, glaring at them, she knew what had happened. "Delphi, what's going on," Beatrice questioned.

"She's trying to escape," Philandra snapped back. "Obviously."

"She can't do that," Beatrice replied.

"She can try," Philandra returned, glancing her opponents up and down. "I don't see how a couple of mortals could-" Suddenly she screeched and ducked back, holding her face as smoke began to waft from the suddenly sizzling flesh. Jack had thrown Holy Water on her, and was now facing down the other vampiress. The pair were circling each other, Beatrice's fangs extended, Jack putting pressure on the lid of the new vial he held in his hand. Quincey noticed what he was doing and grabbed Delphi's arm, guiding her away from her oncoming vampiric sister, following Jack's path.

When the pair of them got to the entrance of the stairway, they turned and bolted down it, Jack waving a little good-bye to Delphi before doing the same. "Move! Two at a time if you can," Jack called, knowing that Beatrice was still following them, both from the sounds behind him and from the hatred he'd seen in Beatrice's eyes. They ran down the stairway, Quincey taking a right, Delphi following, Jack behind. He was bringing up the rear, slower, trying to get the lid of the Holy Water open. Beatrice was gaining as they headed for the set of steps that would lead to the last hallway before freedom, and Jack did the only thing he could.

He brought the vial to his mouth, put the stubborn stopper between his upper and lower molars, clamped down, and yanked the stopper out. He then tossed the vial backwards, intending to not only hit Beatrice, but create a barrier on the floor that she couldn't pass.

He gave no more thought to that as he saw Quincey and Delphi disappear around the corner, down the stairs. Jack turned, skidded, and was forced to jump down the stairs to keep from falling. Delphi reached out her hands and caught him, much to his grateful relief. The three could hear Beatrice shouting from upstairs, along with Drakul's heavy footsteps pounding toward the stairs after them, and pumped on the speed, scooping Jack and Quincey up in her arms and bursting through the front door of Drakul's household. "Just tell me where to turn," she stated, "because right now, we all have a need for speed that's headed right to Jack's place."

Unbeknownst to the two teenagers and one vampire, another pair of eyes watched them leave from the bushes near where Jack and Quincey had hid previously.


	6. Masquerade Ball: Part One

**Transylvania**

**Episode Three**

**Masquerade Ball**

**Part One**

AN: Alright, just to make everyone aware, I'm taking things from various Dracula stories and cannibalizing them. Philandra, Beatrice, and Delphi are the harpies, though different versions of them (since Van Helsing did chop off their heads in the story). A character will be appearing here that's similar to a character from another Dracula story. No prizes for guessing which one.

* * *

"How's the patient," one of the doctors at the mental institution asked.

"Which one," the other doctor, looking as if he was in dire need of a smoke, questioned. "Rookie, you have _no idea_ how many nutzos we've got in here."

"The one that keeps talking about vampires and shit," the rookie answered.

"Oh, him. The Goth kid. Well, c'mon, let's go see for ourselves." The elder doctor grinned and nudged the rookie in the arm. "Give you ten-to-one that the kid ain't gettin' any better."

"You realize this is some guy's life, right," the rookie responded, looking a little disgusted.

"Hey, you learn not to care after awhile, kiddo. C'mon, we've got a couple hallways to cover."

"Don't call me kiddo," the rookie replied. He was average height, perhaps just slightly leaning more towards the short side, but he was strong. His skin was dark, and he had shaved his head recently, probably for a charity benefit that Drakul had put on. He was young, but had an aura of maturity and pride about him that some adults – especially the one walking next to him – didn't have.

"Oooh, think you're big 'cause you're only here to pay for the real deal, surgeon school?" He laughed and shook his head. "Come off it, kiddo. They throw the students who aren't makin' it to us." Before the rookie could say anything, the elder doctor stopped in front of a door and slid the viewscreen back. "There. See for yourself."

The rookie peered in, looking at the thin kid inside. He was huddled in the upper right corner of his room, looking as if he was on high alert, his eyes never leaving the window. "He looks scared as shit," the rookie sighed.

"Yeah, he is," the elder doctor replied. "Vampires. Motherfucker's insane."

"Yeah, real compassionate," the rookie muttered sarcastically. His brows furrowed then, before uttering, "What the shit…something's happening."

"What is it," the elder doctor questioned. "Ohhh, fuck. Is that shithead cutting himself again?"

"It's some kinda mist, from the window…what the fuck?!" The rookie stumbled backwards in shock. The elder doctor peered in and watched, in utter, shocked horror as the mist formed into first a humanoid figure, and then a person…a _familiar_ person.

Vladimir Drakul.

The elder doctor fumbled with the keys, even as he saw that the kid was right, Vladimir had fangs and had just formed out of mist that had floated in through the open window, he was a vampire. Vladimir began to chant, even as the kid, Chris, started forward, charging at him. Dark shadows began to spin in the room, and suddenly Chris was knocked backwards by a blackish blast, slamming the boy into the wall. Vladimir quickly changed the chant, and suddenly a greenish energy burst from Chris's upper chest. Vladimir grinned wickedly and changed the chant once more, the greenish energy making it halfway to him before suddenly dispersing and vanishing, almost like a cloud of smoke would.

That was when the elder doctor flung the door open. Vladimir grinned and wagged his finger at him before turning and heading back towards the window. The elder doctor stood, dumbfounded, as Vladimir shifted back into mist and merely wafted back out the window. The rookie was hanging back, just outside the door, cautious and nervous. The elder doctor advanced on the boy, who was struggling up from the ground. "Kid? You okay? You alright?" Suddenly Chris's head snapped up, his eyes locking with the doctor's, and they were cold and dead and held nothing of what they once had.

Chris abruptly leapt toward him, and then all went black.

* * *

The next morning, Jack sat on his couch, flipping through the channels, his parents gone for the month on vacation. It had been a hectic day, getting Delphi situated in his house, making sure Drakul or the other two women hadn't followed them, and then finally getting some sleep. Quincey was still passed out on the opposite couch, and Jack himself hadn't been awake for long. He was currently flipping through the news channels, trying to see if anything strange had occurred during the day that they'd missed during their activities.

After about two minutes of this, Jack was bored. He threw the remote into the air with an exasperated sigh, the TV stopped on the local news channel. He pushed himself off the couch, walking groggily towards the fridge to get some bread. He was in the mood for toast and a bowl of sugar-filled cereal. "Caffeine is the gift of the gods," he muttered ruefully, looking at the empty coffee pot. "Need some Cinnamon Toast Crack," he grumbled, opening up the cupboard. "Damnit, Chris needs to stop eating my food," he groaned, his hands passing over the cereals before stopping on one. "Count Chocula…ironic," he laughed, before grabbing that box. "I may not want to see another 'Count' for as long as I live, but this is pretty good cereal," he sighed, pouring himself a bowl. He turned and began walking back towards the couch.

He made it halfway before he registered what the anchorman was saying. The bowl dropped from a suddenly limp hand and he practically flew into his family room, shoving Quincey less than lightly. "Get up! Quincey, get up!"

Quincey was up like a shot, muscles tensed, afraid but ready to fight. When he saw there was no danger, he relaxed, scowling at Jack. "Damnit Jack, don't-"

"Quincey, shut up and listen to the news."

_Late last night, Transylvania Mental Hospital suffered what could possibly be the bloodiest escape in its history. One doctor was killed brutally, beaten and stomped to death, in the room of patient Christopher Harper. No word on where Harper is now, only that the police are handling it and should have it under control soon. Citizens are warned not to approach the patient if they see him, as he may be dangerous. Funeral arrangements for Fletcher Morris, the doctor that the patient murdered, have not been finalized as of this report._

The boys stood in silence for a few moments, before finally, Jack uttered, "We have to find Chris."

* * *

The young man awoke in a dim room, lying in a comfortable, plush bed. He wasn't sure where he was, but he knew he was nervous. He knew he should be sitting up, too. That way, if there was something dangerous here – why he thought there would be something dangerous, he wasn't sure, but he did – he could at least see it before it killed him.

That thought in his mind, he quickly discovered sitting up was much harder than it should've been. He groaned loudly and had to push himself up against the headboard to stay up. He wasn't wearing a shirt, just a pair of pants and boxers, and his dark skin was paler than it should have been. His head – apparently recently shaved – was catching a draft, and he shivered despite not wanting to do so.

He spied a man sitting, slumped, in a chair near the corner, and for an instant had a flash of a familiar memory, but it was gone quickly. Which is when the young man realized something else.

He didn't know who he was. "Hey," he called, finding his throat drier than he thought it should've been. "Hey, w-what's going on?"

The man in the chair turned, revealing skin that was _far_ too pale. His hair was a bright blonde, so bright in fact that it was almost white. The back reached to the end of his neck, while the front was cut shorter, his bangs brushing his eyebrows, and the sides reaching to just above the earlobes. The face itself looked regal, and for a moment the young man thought he was looking at a prince, but then brushed that thought away as whimsy.

The man was apparently young, though strong of build. He wore a dark sweater, work pants, and combat boots, a long coat folded and hanging on the back of the chair. "Take it easy," the man said, getting up and moving over to him. "You went through hell. When I found you, you were barely alive."

"Look, just…just tell me what's going on." The man sighed, but complied.

"I found you in a mental institution that someone I'm…looking for happened to be. You were beaten badly, and on the brink of death. I did what I could, and managed to heal you."

"But…but I look fine. Like I lost some blood, but other than that, fine."

"True," the pale man consented. "I can do a lot."

"Who…who am I?"

"You don't know?"

"No. I…I don't. I probably hit my head."

"Your head was one of the worse injuries," the pale man confirmed. He then sighed and shrugged helplessly. "I'm sorry. I don't know you. I've just been calling you 'The Doctor.'"

"Why?" The pale man got up and moved to a dresser near the left side of the bed. He held up what was apparently a uniform of some kind…a doctor's uniform. It was ripped and torn up, but still recognizable.

"I guess you worked at the mental hospital," the pale man suggested. "I couldn't find a name tag."

"Well…I guess I should thank you." The pale man shook his head, as if to say "no need" and The Doctor let it drop. "Who are you?"

"Call me," the pale man began, pausing, "call me Al."

* * *

It had been a long, hard day for Jack and Quincey. They had searched the town over for Chris, before getting Professor Van Helsing to help them search outside of it. No one had seen or heard from Chris since his escape, apparently. Now, as the pair of them came in, miserable and not hoping to salvage the rest of the afternoon or evening, slumped down onto the couches in the family room. "I guess Delphi's still sleeping," Jack observed, after a moment.

"Yeah," Quincey replied, sounding numb. "What's in the mail?" He gestured tiredly to the objects clutched in Jack's left hand.

"Probably junk," Jack returned, flipping through it idly, tossing the junk on the floor, deciding that he'd pick it up later. "Bill, bill, bill, 'You could already be a winner', Official PlayStation Magazine subscription renewal-"

"It's all junk," Quincey sighed. "Just throw it for now."

"…Quincey, I really don't think you should say stuff from now on," Jack said slowly, holding up an envelope that said, "To Jack and Quincey," on it in pristine, flowing handwriting, Drakul's seal placed in the upper right corner. "You're like that guy in movies, the one that says 'It couldn't get any worse' and then it does."

"Hey," Quincey replied, before sighing. "Yeah, you're right." Jack sighed as well and opened the envelope, holding it out at arms length, with the side to be opened pointing away from him. Quincey gave him an odd look.

"What," Jack snapped. "He could've put anthrax in it."

"Anthrax," Quincey questioned, amused. "Jack, he's a vampire. I don't think he'd put anthrax in the envelope."

"Hey, better safe than sorry," he responded. Seeing that no anthrax had exploded from the envelope, Jack turned it around and pointed it downwards, carefully letting the card drop. "…Alright, maybe I'm just paranoid." Jack picked up the card, opened it…

…and got a face full of white powder. Quincey was off the couch like a shot, muttering about not saying something like that ever again, when Jack waved him back down. "Don't worry," Jack sighed, coughing immediately afterwards. "It's flour."

"Flour," Quincey asked. He sounded torn between being angry and amused.

"Yeah, flour," Jack snapped back irritably. He opened the card and read what was inside aloud. "'I believe the phrase is…gotcha, correct? Regardless, you and your infiltrating friend are both invited to a masquerade ball I am throwing tonight at my castle. Leave Delphi at home, though…she never did like those things.'"

"Well…it could get worse," Quincey suggested, sounding as if he was trying to be helpful. Just then, Delphi stepped into the family room and, upon seeing Jack, furrowed her brow.

"Jack…why do you have flour on your face?" Jack groaned and buried his face in hands, Quincey trying not to laugh and Delphi just looking confused.

* * *

Night had fallen on the town of Transylvania, and everyone was flowing in and out of Drakul's castle. His masquerade ball was an annual event, and was always very successful. There were quite a few people there, though those of note could be counted on one hand. Drakul, of course, as he was the host of the party.

Jack, dressed as Frodo Baggins, was getting punch from a large, meticulously designed, and beautiful glass bowl.

Quincey, dressed as The Scarecrow, of Batman fame, hung out near the left wall, waiting for Jack to return with the punch.

Philandra and Beatrice, dressed as a pair of Jabba the Hut's Twi'Lek dancers (complete with lekku's attached to their heads with stage glue) hung back, behind Drakul, looking as if they'd been scolded again before the party.

Professor Van Helsing was there, and surprisingly, he was in costume, dressed as The Shadow. He twirled his hat in his right hand idly, glancing around the room from his position at the end of the refreshment table, his eyes guarded.

Jane Doe, dressed as Lady Deathstrike, the X2 version, leaned against a wall near the front, sipping what looked to be punch, but those who knew her knew it most definitely was not.

Al and The Doctor were there as well, positioned near the door; Al dressed in a regal, Victorian era suit and The Doctor dressed as Othello. Both carried real weapons; Al a rapier, and The Doctor a longsword.

Liam and Jessica skipped the ball this year, too bummed from Chris's apparent murderous turn and subsequent disappearance to celebrate.

There was a flash of a man disappearing up the stairs, apparently dressed as Gabriel Van Helsing.

All of them were gathered in a grand ballroom, a large balcony running across three of the four elegantly decorated walls. The guests milled about, talking, dancing, and – all but the noted few – appeared to be having fun.

That was when the man…no, boy dressed as Gabriel Van Helsing stepped out onto the balcony on the right wall, and Drakul looked up and laughed. He signaled for the DJ to cut the music and took the microphone. "Ahhh, this is classic. Do you want me to reenact the entire scene," he questioned of the boy.

The boy merely stood, looking down at Drakul, apparently emotionless.

"Ahhhh, always so stoic." He turned to his guests. "My friends, I give you an esteemed guest of honor…Christopher Harper."

Chris smirked before stepping off the balcony.


End file.
